


Despondency

by Tyiswriting



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm Sorry, Introspection, Loss, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyiswriting/pseuds/Tyiswriting
Summary: Perhaps it was the flicker of the fire, or the whiskey that he was drinking that night, but the general loneliness of the halls was striking.Tommy entertained the wish he did not have to be himself for a little while.





	Despondency

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little introspection set during the first episode of season 4. Can't wait for 5 and hope you enjoy!

"You can't live like this another year."

Oh, and it was freedom -freedom he would be sacrificing if he relented and went to John’s fucking party. Where Charlie would meet his cousins, and see his uncles and aunts and family. Freedom and sex and whiskey sours all gone for the sake of family. Lizzy should have known better than to try and appeal to whatever speck of empathy he could still summon up. Family. For the majority of his life, family was everything. For a little while after he lost Grace he couldn’t bear the idea of lending anyone but Charlie a piece of himself as he had before. It had never quite been the same. 

Alone now in the soft glow of the fire, and with his old comforting whiskey glass in his hand, he could admit it, though. Living like this was starving something vital in him. All the empty hallways and decadent rooms and the Christmas tree across from him, decked out in the greatest luxury paid for by the blood of men, half of which he had never even known. It wasn’t just that. That he could accustom himself to in the name of business. It was the knowing all of them were out there hating him, too. It was the fact that every day, he saw more and more of Grace in Charlie, and he couldn't bring himself to fucking cry.

Often he had wished that one of the bullets had hit him, or a tunnel collapsed around him in France. In his nightmares, however, he re-lived not France as did Arthur. France was a chance for them all, and nothing could come of wishing or dwelling on it.  
Oh, but what haunted him was fresher in his mind. He dreamed still of the night Grace died - dwelling on diving in front of her or doing fucking something. But more often now, dreamt of that night four years ago in the field. Soiled with the dirt of his intended grave and gasping amidst tears, as he just yearned for such a death as he had just evaded. Oh, as he had walked away from that site he wished they'd put a bullet in his head.

The nightmares about that day were worse. Grace's death he could alleviate a little with the curse's excuse, or at least he could pretend that he could. The nightmares of that day he had come face to face with death in the fields was worse because he had resigned himself to the end. Oh, he had been so ready to die. Living? Living past it had it brought him only temporary things. That little precious, precious time with Grace. Time to finish his business with the Russians. Time to spend getting fucking clean and build up Arthur and John and aunt Pol and Ada and Michael. Where did that all get him? An empty house with too many rooms and a family who despised him. This family he could not bring himself to welcome into his heart again.

Sometimes he wondered why providence had ruled he should be kept living. Why he shouldn't resist the intended and destroy his turmoil once and for all. Then the thought was swept away in a rush. Live for Charlie, and his Christmases -be the father that Tommy never had himself. Live for this family reunion and Ada's kindness. Live for this business with the Italians which matters. He only would ever think in this stupid, vulnerable way under the whiskey and firelight. There was a list already long enough of people who would be happy to kill him. He didn't want to add his own name to it.

No. No of course not. He was Tommy Shelby. He would invite over Johnny Dogs and the other men for goose and potatoes and better food that any of them had -in their time on the road- probably seen in years.

He would watch Charlie open his presents tomorrow with glee and see his eyes light up in the same way Grace's used to. He would sleep and suffer living again another intricate scene from his life tonight

Life would go on. (And she would be watching.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Try to be sure to leave a comment or some kudos.


End file.
